You Are Fred
by Sly M. Cogan
Summary: Two months before the "Mansion Incident", Jill Valentine's much less exciting brother Fred sets out on a roadtrip. His mundane journey of self-discovery continues.
1. The Raccoon City IHOP

_DISCLAIMER – I own no rights to Jill Valentine, Raccoon City, IHOP, etc., etc._

**A/N**_** – Many thanks to my roommate John and my friends Jimmy, Jake, and Joel.**_

_**YOU ARE FRED**_

By Sean M. Cogan

_May_

* * *

_ 1998_

I attempted to slick back my messy, sand-colored hair as I looked in the mirror. I took stock of myself: a few inches shorter than I would have liked to be, not in very good shape, and in an incredibly drab blue and gray outfit. I sighed.

"You are Fred," I said to my reflection.

I stepped outside of the dorm house and took a look around the RCU campus. A happy couple was strolling around the sidewalk and a few slackers were playing hacky-sack in the parking lot, but other than that the night was quiet. It was a humid night in Raccoon City. I looked at my watch. It was getting late, and I promised I'd meet my sister, Jill, at the local International House of Pancakes at ten o'clock.

I got into my car. Then, I reached into my fanny pack and removed my car key. I examined it. Then I used the car key on the ignition and the car started. The car key went back into its storage compartment in the fanny pack. I turned the air conditioner up as high as it would go (I couldn't roll down the windows, because I'd used duct tape on them to keep them shut a couple winters ago) and drove to the IHOP.

Jill stood up when I came through the front door. I could tell she had been getting impatient before I came in, but she put on a smile and we hugged. We were led to a table for two and sat down.

My sister obviously had just gotten off duty because she hadn't changed out of her S.T.A.R.S. uniform, complete with the bulging shoulder pads, her navy blue beret in her hand. S.T.A.R.S., of course, stands for Special Tactics and Rescue Squad, an elite division of the Raccoon City Police Department. Jill was still finishing her training at the police academy the last time I saw her, and now she was already becoming something of a local hero. The Star of the S.T.A.R.S.

I love my older sister, but I always got the impression everyone liked her better than me, even mom and dad. She brought home the better report cards in grade school. She's the one who actually finished piano lessons. (She must have played the Moonlight Sonata in every possible local talent show.) In high school, she was the pretty, popular girl everyone liked. And I was the annoying younger sibling. Now, she was a hero cop. And I was studying to be an accountant.

The waitress appeared out of nowhere, all of a sudden. Jill and I both ordered a cup of coffee.

When the waitress disappeared, Jill and I stared at the table top. She twisted her beret while I tried to think of something to say to her.

"I haven't seen you in a while," I finally said.

"Been busy," Jill replied. "Police stuff."

"Yeah," I said. "I know."

"How's school going?"

"It's . . . going. Finals are coming up soon. I'm kind of nervous."

"I'm sure you'll do fine." She unrolled her napkin and carefully examined each piece of silverware, mentioning that she found "nothing unusual" about each piece before moving on to the next one. "What are you studying again?"

Just then, the waitress reappeared with the coffee.

"Will you take the cup of coffee? Yes or no?" the waitress asked me.

"Yes," I said. "Of course. That's why I ordered it. So I could take it."

She poured the coffee and I reached for the sugar in the center of the table.

"You found some sugar," the waitress said. "There's only enough there for a few uses. Will you take some? Yes or no?"

"Sure," I said, a little bit confused by the waitress's concern.

I took the packet of sugar. I combined the cup of coffee with the packet of sugar in an attempt to make coffee with sugar. That's when I unrolled my napkin and realized there was no spoon.

"You can't combine those," the waitress said. "You don't have a spoon."

"It looks like they accidentally gave me two forks instead of a spoon," I said. "Could you please get me one?"

The waitress just gave me a dirty look.

"Don't worry, Li'l Bro," Jill said. "I always carry an extra spoon with me, just in case I manage to get myself in some sort of trouble in which I'd need an extra spoon."

"No," I said. "That's alright. I'm sure I can just borrow one from another table, or . . ."

But Jill was already taking a spoon from the storage compartment of her uniform. She handed it across the table to me.

"Take the silver spoon? Yes or no?" she said.

I sighed.

"I'll take it."

I used the spoon on my cup to make coffee with sugar.

"Would you like some pancakes? Yes or no?" the waitress said.

"Yes," I said.

"How many pancakes would you like? 1? 2? 3? 4? Or leave the plate empty?"

"Why would I want to leave the plate empty?" I said.

"Maybe so you can see what the plate looks like empty before you try anything else," Jill suggested.

"I'll just go with 2."

Jill ordered 4. She manages to be a champion pancake eater while still keeping in fighting form, more than able to pass S.T.A.R.S.' most rigorous physical examinations.

"Anyway," Jill said, when the waitress had gone for our pancakes, "if you get sick of Raccoon City U, I have a few friends in the Academy. Just say the word, and I can get you a job somewhere on the Force, just like that." She snapped her fingers, immediately drawing the attention of every man in the restaraunt, and a few jealous women.

"Jill, you don't have to . . ."

"There's nothing to worry about. As a Valentine, you'll be a shoo-in."

"It's not that. It's just, I don't want to be a cop. I mean, that's fine for you. But, I like numbers. I want to be an accountant."

"You're a whiz when it comes to math, Fred. But I always thought you could do something more worthwhile in your life. You know. Help people."

"Accountants do help people, Jill."

"Help them what?"

"Accountants help people . . . well, count!"

The waitress brought our pancakes. Jill took the blueberry syrup and combined it with her pancakes. I took the hot maple syrup the waitress had brought to the table and combined it with my pancakes. Jill and I tried to make small talk here and there, but mainly we ate our pancakes and sipped our coffee in silence.

When my cup was empty, I flagged down the waitress.

"There's half a pitcher of coffee left," the waitress said. "Refill your cup? Yes or no?"

"Yes," I said.

The waitress poured for Jill and me.

"There is not a single drop of coffee left," the waitress then said.

I reached for the sugar in the center of the table again.

"You can no longer sweeten your coffee," the waitress said.

"What do you mean?" I asked, motioning to the still-full server of sugar packets. "There's plenty of sugar left."

"You can no longer sweeten your coffee," the waitress repeated.

"But there's . . ." I tried to argue, once again motioning to the sugar packets.

"You can no longer sweeten your coffee," the waitress repeated.

I groaned in surrender and sipped my coffee black. Jill was already halfway finished with her second cup, as she always took hers black, anyway.

"Seriously, Fred," Jill said. "If you get sick of this math and business stuff, I'm sure they could use you at the Academy."

"Thanks, sis," I said. "But I just want to finish up school, graduate, and become a CPA."

Jill put on a smile again, but I could tell she was disappointed in me.

The waitress brought the check. I picked it up and read it. Then I opened up my fanny pack to use my credit card.

"It is not necessary use that now," the waitress said.

"I'm just trying to pay for my meal."

"It is not necessary use that now."

"Why do you say it like that? If you don't accept Discover card as payment, just say so."

"It is not necessary use that now."

"It's okay," Jill said. "I brought cash."

"No," I said, reaching into another compartment. "I can take care of this."

But Jill had already taken out a wad of cash and paid for both of our meals, plus the tip.

I walked with Jill to the door and then we hugged again. Then my sister, Jill Valentine, passed through the door and into the night.

_**A/N – More later . . .**_


	2. The Raccoon City WalMart

_Disclaimer - I do not own the right to Wal-Mart or Resident Evil or any of the trademark therein. Though I'd love to own the Spencer Mansion . . . and Jill._

**_Stardust4 - Thank you for reviewing. I hope you like this chapter, too._**

**_John Graves - You'll have to tell me what you think of this chapter, and I'm going to need ideas for upcoming chapters, too._**

Instead of heading straight back to RU after leaving IHOP, I decided to stop at the nearest Wal-Mart. There were a few things I needed to pick up while I was in the area.

I watched the automatic doors open in front of me and then stepped inside. I couldn't stop thinking about the disappointed look on my big sister's face when I told her I didn't want to be a cop. Yet the soft glow of the florescent lights above relaxed me a little.

A bored girl stood in the doorway, wearing a Wal-Mart vest. From the look of her, she didn't especially want to greet anyone. Her face was completely devoid of emotion.

"You have now entered Wal-Mart," she said. "The doors to the outside world have shut behind you."

I shrugged and made my way into the grocery department.

It was past midnight, and the Wal-Mart was practically deserted. The few people I saw looked dead from exhaustion. Their eyes were glazed and their feet made scuffing sounds as they dragged across the cold floor. One exceptionally tired-looking woman made a low moaning sound as she shambled past me. Then she grabbed a couple jars of spaghetti sauce and was on her way.

I grabbed two cans of chicken noodle soup and then continued down the aisle, trying to ignore the loud moaning of the half-sleepwalking customers. Their shoes made disturbing, squishy sounds as they walked. I maneuvered around the aisles and into the freezer section, grabbing a gallon of milk. A woman was watching me.

"You got the milk," she said. "Will you take it? Yes or no?"

Her question struck me as odd, but I answered, "Yes." And then I took the milk.

I made my way into the frozen food aisle and grabbed a couple of pizzas. I heard something behind me and realized the strange lady had followed me.

"You got the pizza," she said. "Will you take it? Yes or no?"

"Yes," I said, and started to leave.

"You got the pizza," the strange lady said, eying the second pizza in my hands. "Will you take it? Yes or no?"

"Seriously?" I said.

She kept staring at me. Apparently, she would not be satisfied without an answer to her question.

"Yes!" I screamed, at the top of my lungs. This only caused the sleepwalkers around me to moan louder.

I ducked my head and tried to become inconspicuous again. As quickly as possible, I made my way to the checkout aisle and waited in line. A strange man was standing behind the cash register. He was wrapped in a navy blue hooded cloak, with a heavy purple muffler wrapped over his mouth and nose. There was a name tag pinned over his chest. It said: "Hi, my name is MOE."

"What are you buying?" he asked when it was my turn at the register. His voice was thick and gravelly and he spoke with a foreign accent.

"This gallon of milk . . ." I started.

I handed him the jug of milk and he scanned the barcode.

"Is that all, stranger?" he asked.

"No," I said. "These cans of soup, too."

He scanned the cans of soup.

"Is that all, stranger?"

"Yeah," I said. "That's all."

"Got a lot of good things on sale, stranger," Moe said.

"I just need the soup and the milk," I said. I looked around a little and then picked up a candy bar. "And I guess I'll take this Snickers bar, too."

"How about the latest issue of US Weekly?" Moe asked. "Charlie Sheen's going to rehab."

"Really?" I said. "I could have sworn he was clean." I examined the cover of the magazine. "No. No thank you."

"Is that all, stranger?"

"Yeah. Just the milk and soup and then the candy bar."

"That will be five pesetas, stranger."

I was reaching for my wallet in my fanny pack when his statement caught me off guard.

"Pesetas?" I said. "But . . . we're not in Spain. We're in America."

"Just give me five."

"All right," I said.

I pulled a fiver out of my billfold and handed it to Moe.

He laughed and said, "Thank you." Then he put the money in the cash register and a receipt printed out. He gave me the receipt.

* * *

The receipt:

Wal*mart

2% Milk 00546813 $2.00

Soup 00456787 $0.75

Soup 00456787 $0.75

Snickers 00356098 $0.75

Tax 1 $0.25

We value your opinion!

Please call the following toll-free number to complete a customer satisfaction survey. You could win dollars!

* * *

Moe pointed out the telephone number for the survey to me.

"Will you take the survey now or later?" he asked me.

"Later," I said.

I started putting my cans of soup into my fanny pack, but then I realized I had no more room.

"Would you like to upgrade from your fanny back to a back pack?" Moe asked. "It will allow you to store 25% more items than you can now."

"Sure," I said, reluctantly. I realized I wouldn't be able to get my groceries back to the dorm any other way.

"10.79, stranger," Moe said.

I handed him a ten dollar bill.

"Not enough cash, stranger," Moe said.

"Hold on. I've got some change," I said. "And you can stop calling me stranger, Moe. My name's Fred."

I handed him three quarters and a nickel. He gave me a penny back, laughing and saying "thank you" again.

Then I traded my fanny pack for the back pack, transferring the items from the fanny pack into the back pack. As hard as I tried to arrange the items, I couldn't fit my Snickers bar, my rain poncho, or my emergency can of first aid spray into the back pack with the rest of my stuff.

"Is that all, stranger?" Moe said.

"I just told you, my name is Fred. The way you say 'stranger' is starting to creep me out," I said. "And where can I put all the stuff that won't fit in my backpack?"

"You'll have to leave the rest of your items in a storage container," Fred said. He pointed to a large chest situated between the men's and ladies' restroom. "There's one right over there."

I walked over to the storage container and hefted open the lid. Then I placed my Snickers bar, poncho, and first aid spray inside.

"Come back anytime, stranger," Moe said.

"I told you, my name is . . . Oh, never mind!"

I walked past the girl in the Wal-Mart vest, who still looked bored to death, and exited through the automatic doors.

_**A/N - Next chapter, Raccoon University . . .**_


	3. The Raccoon City University

_Disclaimer – I own no right to the trademarks in this story. I'm not even sure I own the rights to Fred, and I made him up!_

_**Stardust4, Emilee-san., **_**and**_** JSaysNo – **_**Thanks for your reviews. **

* * *

I yawned as I made my way up the stairway in the dorm house, taking the time to study each step as I bounced my way up to the top floor. I made my way down the hall to Room 1313. I studied the doorknob and realized one of my baby blue neckties had been tied around it.

"There is a necktie around the door handle," one of my neighbors, who was standing idly in the hallway, said.

"Yeah," I said. "I can see that."

I took my dorm room key from the inventory in my backpack and used it on the door.

"You no longer have any use for that key," my neighbor said. "Discard it now? Yes or no?"

"No!" I said. "Of course not. That would be stupid. Just because it's unlocked now doesn't mean one of my roommates couldn't lock it again at any point. Then I'd be locked out of my own room."

"Okay. Sheesh," my neighbor said, and then disappeared into his own dorm room.

I made my way through the suite my roommate and I shared with one more student to the door to my bedroom. It was dark and I could barely see anything. But I heard an ominous, low moan.

As I came closer to the door, I noticed the moan was rhythmic. It was accompanied by a high-pitched panting. Then I heard a girl's voice shrieking, "Yes, yes, oh yes!"

I opened the door.

In the pale light I could see my roommate Ned, shirtless, being straddled by an attractive classmate in short denim shorts and a frilly bra.

I set my backpack down with a _thud_ and the moaning and shrieking stopped.

"Fred?" Ned said. "Didn't you see the necktie on the door?"

"Yeah," I said. "And I couldn't help but notice it was my necktie. This is my room, too, and I'm going to bed."

Ned sighed.

"There's a light switch directly above you," he said. "Will you flip it? Yes or no?"

"Not just yet," I said.

"Will you flip it? Yes or no?" Ned insisted.

I flipped the switch on.

"Hi, Kitana," I said to the girl.

"Hi, Fred," Kitana said breathlessly, pulling her T-shirt on over her bra. She slipped into some high heeled flip flops, kissed Ned enthusiastically, then headed out the door.

"You can't keep bringing girls into our room at night," I said.

"You're just jealous," Ned said with a cocky grin.

He was right. Ned was one of the most popular guys in school, with great clothes, great hair, and a rich family. This wasn't the first of his conquests I'd interrupted.

"So, you were out with that hot S.T.A.R.S. detective tonight," Ned said.

"That's my big sister, you perv."

"So what? She's still hot, dummy."

I loaded the milk and frozen pizzas from my backpack into the mini-fridge Ned and I shared, and then I put the cans of soup I'd bought into the cupboard. Finally, I walked over to the storage chest in the corner of the room and opened the heavy lid. I began to extract my candy bar, my rain poncho, and my first aid spray.

"It amazes me every time," I said. "I put this stuff into the storage chest at Wal-Mart. How does it turn up here?"

"It's the miracle of modern technology, my friend. Speaking of modern technology, do you have to use that old-fashioned typewriter to do your homework? The typing keeps me awake at night."

"Well, excuse me for wanting to do well in all of my classes."

"Why can't you just get a computer like everyone else? No one but you uses a typewriter anymore."

"It's a Valentine family heirloom," I said as I made my way over to my desk, where the old-fashioned typewriter was sitting. "And thanks for reminding me. I wanted to work on my research paper on B.O.W.'s a little bit before I went to bed."

I started loading paper into the typewriter, then I swore softly.

"I'm all out of ink ribbons," I said. "I forgot to pick some up when I was out. Now there's no way for me to record my progress on my research."

"Where do they still sell typewriter ribbons, anyway?" Ned said crankily, rolling over onto his stomach in bed and closing his eyes.

All of a sudden, there was the stench of burnt rope. The door opened, and in walked my other roommate, Ted, a kid with long, uncombed hair under a green and yellow beanie hat, and a messy beard. His eyes were half-closed and blood shot.

"Dudes," he said slowly. "Tonight, me and some of the guys mixed red herbs and green herbs. It was awesome."

"You're gonna get in so much trouble," I said. "You know that?"

"Dude, chill. It's medicinal. Tomorrow night, we're going to try to mix red herbs and blue herbs, or yellow herbs and other yellow herbs."

"You can't," I said. "Those herbs don't mix together."

"That's just what The Man wants you to believe," Ted said emphatically. "Dudes, I have got the munchies soooo bad. Got anything for the Ted-meister to snack on?"

"Here," I said with a sigh, tossing Ted my Snickers bar.

"Awesome, man," Ted said, taking a big bite of caramel and nougat. He turned to Ned. "How was your night, man?"

"I was with Kitana," Ned said, all smiles.

"Kitana?" Ted said. "I heard if she kisses you, you blow up."

"That's just a rumor," Ned said. "Besides, that's a different Kitana."

While Ned and Ted discussed herbs and girls, I strolled over to the stand I'd set all of my family photographs on. My pancake date with Jill had made me homesick.

Ned walked over and looked at the pictures with me. He picked up my family portrait, taken in the living room.

"This is a family portrait?" Ned said. "I can't even see any people in it."

"There we are," I said, pointing at the background. "Behind the really long dining room table."

He looked at the picture of Jill and me mountain climbing during summer break, taken from the top of the mountain looking down at us, and the picture of Jill on the beach in Cancun during Spring break, taken from the other end of the ocean from the beach she was on. He finally picked up my senior picture, taken by my mother, of me posing on a stump in the woods, taken from outside the woods.

"I didn't even know you were in any of these pictures," Ned said. "These are the worst camera angles ever."

"Shut up, Ned," I said. "My mom took these."

"Guys! Guys!" Ted said. "Let's all just chill."

"He's right," Ned said, heading back to bed. "Good night, Ted."

"Good night, Ned," Ted said.

"Good night, Ted," I said.

"Good night, Fred," Ted said.

"Good night, Fred," Ned said.

"Good night, Ned," I said.

Then we all went to bed.

* * *

**A/N – That's all for now. If anybody has any suggestions about what should happen next, please review and let me now.**


	4. The Raccoon City Curriculum

_Disclaimer: I don't own legal rights to any of the copyrighted Resident Evil stuff in this story._

_**Emilee-San – **_**The typewriters aren't in RE5, huh? That's kind of sad. I did think they were kind of ridiculous the first time I played RE4, but now I realize it's the end of an era. Oh well.**

_**Stardust4 – **_**Hope you don't get tired of the "yes or no" stuff anytime soon, because there's still plenty more to come.**

_**John – **_**That is your name, right, John? Well, whoever you are, thanks for the advice.**

* * *

"Combine x and y to make x plus y," Dr. Smith, my algebra professor, said, using chalk at the blackboard. "Use xy to find m. It is not necessary use the square root of x."

I combined my pencil and paper to make notes, but I was finding Professor Smith's instructions a little hard to follow.

"Now, who will come up and solve the problem on the board?" Professor Smith asked.

Naturally, the hand of Cindy, teacher's little blonde pet, shot straight up and shook violently. Professor Smith rolled his eye and tried ignoring Cindy, though there were noticeably no other volunteers.

"Anyone ? . . . Anyone? . . . Valentine? . . ." Smith pointed his stubby piece of chalk at me. "Come up to the board? Yes or no?"

"No," I said.

"Don't get smart with me, Valentine. Get up here."

I groaned, stood up, and shuffled my feet all the way to the chalkboard.

"You are standing at the chalkboard," Smith said.

_No duh_, I thought.

"Will you take the piece of chalk? Yes or no?"

I snatched the piece of chalk.

"You got the piece of chalk."

I looked at my notes and tried to use "x and y equals x plus y" to solve the problem.

"It is not necessary use that here," Smith said.

I frowned and flipped to another page in my notes. I tried "x time y equals xy." Again, Smith told me this wasn't the correct solution to the puzzle.

"That's it, Valentine. Sit back down. Miss Lennox, would you like to try to solve the puzzle?"

Cindy shot me a nasty snarl as we passed each other. I sat down in my uncomfortable seat and watched her smugly work out the problem on the chalkboard.

"Very good, Cindy," Smith said. "You got extra credit. Will you take it? Yes or no?"

"Yes, please," Cindy said.

She opened her purse. Smith took a quick look inside.

"You can't carry any extra credit right now," he said.

I have to admit I smiled when Cindy stomped her heels and pouted at Smith.

"You can pick it up at my office later, when you've emptied some of the items from your inventory." Then Cindy immediately turned to a file cabinet in the corner and pulled out a stack of papers. "For your homework, Cindy will be passing out some Playing Manuals for each of you to look over."

I took the paper and examined it.

* * *

Player's Manual 1

Note that the button names may differ depending on the calculator type being used.

Press the "On" Button during homework.

You cannot use your calculator in the following circumstances.

-During a pop quiz, unless notified otherwise by your professor.

-During certain assignments when specified by your professor.

-When taking damage.

* * *

I flipped the page.

* * *

The following functions may be available on your calculator.

-Multiplication

-Division

-Addition

-Subtraction

-Graphing … etc.

* * *

I flipped to the next page.

* * *

View Homework

Select the HOMEWORK item from your Backpack (You can also press the Z Button during homework.)

If you do not have homework for the night, you can always see Professor Smith in his office.

While viewing your HOMEWORK, you can view the Notes you have taken in class by pressing the A Button.

The following information should be available in your Notes:

-x and y equals x plus y

-x time y equals xy

-x divided by y equals x over y

* * *

I scratched my head and turned to the next page. That's when it got really weird.

* * *

Crunching Numbers

Some "numbers" can be crunched in certain directions.

Use the joystick to crunch these "numbers."

(You can also use the left, right, up, and down buttons.)

To perform long multiplication, press the X and Y Buttons while tapping the A Button repeatedly.

To perform long division, press the X and Y Buttons while tapping the B button repeatedly.

* * *

I could never understand Professor Smith's study guides. Or why he insisted on referring to them as "Playing Manuals." But Cindy always did, and that's why she was always Smith's class aid.

The bell rang and we poured out of the classroom. When I was walking down the hallway, I saw Kitana, my roommate Ned's conquest from the previous night, waving frantically at me. The pretty brunette seemed to share my sister's fondness for the color blue, and her dark brown hair was pulled back in a tight pony tail.

"Hi, Kitana," I said.

"Hi, Fred," she said, once again sounding a little out of breath. "Heading to class?"

"Just getting out of Advanced Algebra with Smith," I said. "You?"

"I'm on my way to my Chemistry 101, followed by my Eastern Philosophy class," she said. She reached into her backpack and then cussed.

"What's wrong?"

"I thought I had both textbooks with me, since the classes are back to back," Kitana said. "But I must have left my Eastern Philosophy textbook on the table in my dorm room. And my Chemistry 101 class is starting in three minutes. There's no way I can make it to my dorm and back again on time." She batted her big brown eyes at me. "Fred, can you do me a favor? Could you run and get my book for me, and then meet me here before my next class so I can get it from you?"

"I don't know, Kitana," I said. "I've never been in the girl's dorms before."

"It's okay," she said. "It's visiting hours right now. I'm in Room 1993. Here's the key to the dorm house." She dangled the shiny golden key from a pink ribbon in front of me. "Take the Key to the Girl's Dormitory. Yes or no?"

"I don't know," I said.

"Please, Fred!" Kitana said, letting her lips quiver a little bit.

"What's this textbook look like?" I asked.

"You'll know it when you see it," Kitana said. "It will be sitting on the table, and there will be a little blue light beaming off the surface on the cover."

"A little blue light? Why will there be a little blue light?"

Kitana's puppy dog eyes turned hard again.

"The miracle of modern technology," she said matter-of-factly. Then she put a hand on my shoulder and began gently massaging it. "Please, Fred, will you help me? Yes or no?"

This was a no-brainer if I ever heard one. _Heck yes!_

I took the Key to the Girl's Dormitory from Kitana and walked out into the courtyard.

* * *

As I approached the Girl's Dormitory I was filled with dread. I hadn't been in there before, even during visiting hours. I had to talk myself through the process.

"You are approaching a door," I said. "The cool breeze calms you a little bit."

I took a deep breath and used the key in the lock.

"You used the Key to the Girl's Dormitory. Discard it? Yes or no? No!"

I put the key back in my backpack.

I entered the building.

"The door to safety has shut behind you. There's no turning back . . . at least not until you've retrieved the textbook for your roommate's super hot girlfriend."

I examined a sign. It said:

^1000-1999

(0001-0999

I followed the sign up the stairs, carefully examining each of the steps as I made my way up the stairs. I always take time to appreciate the way stairs and doors look as I use them. I think I would be an architect if I hadn't already decided to be an accountant.

I tried the door at the top of the stairs but it was locked. I tried the Girl's Dormitory key in the lock, but to no avail. It was obvious I needed the key with the helmet insignia on it.

I went back down the stairs and found a custodian studying the door intently.

"The handle looks like it's about to break," he said. "Use it anyway? Yes or no?"

"Yes," I said, and twisted the handle. Then I went through the door.

I looked around. Luckily, there were no girls around. I just wanted to grab the textbook and leave as quickly as possible.

I saw a bright blue light on a table nearby. I realized the light was beaming off a key.

"Take the key?" I said to myself. "Yes or no? Yes!"

I examined the key and saw that it had the helmet insignia on it. Luckily, I had another slot open in my backpack. I went back to the door I had come through, but the door wasn't working anymore.

"You dumb kid!" the custodian said. "You broke the door. Come back a little later and I'll have that crappy door fixed for you."

I shrugged and made my way to the door on the other side of the room. Just then, a girl came out of a room nearby. She looked dead tired and was moaning. I ran through the door and shut it quickly behind me to avoid her.

I walked up the stairs, again taking the time to appreciate each individual step on my way up, and then used the helmet key on the door. I put it back in my backpack rather than discarding it then and there, planning on returning it to the table I had borrowed it from as soon as I was finished with my business here.

I made my way to Room 1993. I tried to open the door, but it was locked. In vain, I tried to open the door using the Girl's Dormitory key or the helmet key, but neither worked. I saw that Kitana's door has a sword insignia on it.

I continued down the hall, knocking on various doors. I was embarrassed, but I had to see if one of the other girls on Kitana's floor has a sword key. No one answered, but when I knocked on the door to Room 1999, the door swung open. I entered the room and saw a blue glint. It was another key, but when I tried to pick it up I realized I had no room left in my backpack.

I made my way back down the hall, through the door (which was still unlocked from when I used the helmet key), down the stairs (carefully studying each step. The design on the carpeting was great!), through the door (which was still unlocked), and back to the table I had acquired the key from, but I saw two girls sitting and eating some fast food from a takeout bag there, and I didn't want them to see me putting the key I had stolen back. So I went to the storage chest in the corner and discarded the helmet key there. I figured the girl who needed it would naturally look there, anyway.

I made my way once again through the door, up the stairs, through the door, and to the unlocked room. I picked up the key and studied it, realizing it was the sword key.

I used the sword key on Room 1999 and then placed it in my backpack. I examined the room thoroughly, even moving pieces of furniture across the room and climbing on top of them to get a better look around. The book was nowhere to be found. Kitana's dorm, like any other on campus, was suite styled, so that there was a bedroom on either side. I tried the door to the left, but it was locked. I realized I needed the key with the armor insignia to open it. I tried the door to the right, not really knowing which room was Kitana's. The door opened. I saw another blue glint in the corner of the room. When I got to it, I realized it was another key. There was no room in my backpack.

That's when Kitana's roommate woke up from her nap. She looked angry. She groggily grabbed me by the throat from behind and I had to struggle to get her off. When she fell to the floor, I ran out of the room.

I ran down the hall, through the door (studying the knots on the wooden panel intently), down the stairs (still paying attention to each step on the way down), through the other door (again appreciating the handiwork), past the sleepwalking female student, and back to the storage chest. I deposited the helmet key, as well as my Advanced Algebra textbook and a granola bar, knowing they'd reappear inside the storage chest in my own dorm room and not knowing if there'd be anything else of significance I needed to grab.

I made my way past the sleepwalker, through the door, up the stairs, through the other door, down the hall, into Room 1993, and back into Kitana's roommate's room. Kitana's roommate was still aggravated and began slugging me with a pillow. That shouldn't hurt, but she was hitting me repeatedly and hard. I tried to ignore her long enough to grab the key. I didn't take time to examine it this time. I just tossed it into my backpack. I saw another glint of blue light. It was a bottle of first aid spray. I figured I could always use an extra one of those and tossed it into my backpack.

I pushed my way past Kitana's roommate and back into the suite. For some reason, Kitana's roommate didn't come after me. It was like she was too tired to use the door handle. Or she was just constrained to the room.

I examined the key I'd picked up and saw that it was the armor key. I used the key on the door to Kitana's room. I saw a blue glint. Her Eastern Philosophy textbook was sitting on the top of her coffee table, just where she'd said it would be.

I carefully placed the textbook in my backpack and then made it out of the suite, down the hall, through the door (Have I mentioned the knots in the wood made a really cool design?), down the stairs (Have I mentioned how amazing the stairs looked?), through the other door, and to the storage chest. I tossed the armor and the sword keys inside. Then I ran to the door that had broken.

"I fixed this crappy door for you," the custodian said.

I thanked him and ran out.

* * *

Back outside of the door of my Advanced Algebra classroom, I used the can of medical spray I had acquired in Kitana's roommate's room to ease my headache. Finally, Kitana walked up. I handed her the Key to the Girl's Dormitory and her Eastern Philosophy textbook.

"Oh, Fred, you're so sweet," Kitana said. "But I just found out. My Eastern Philosophy professor's sick. Class has been cancelled for today."

_**

* * *

**_

_**A/N – To be continued, probably in September.**_


	5. Leaving Raccoon City

_DISCLAIMER - I own nothing, Nothing!_

_**Stardust9 - **Glad you're still getting, and enjoying, the humor, even the "yes or no" stuff. Hope there are a few things you'll like in this chapter as well._

_**friendtrilobyte - **I imagine a great many things would be all the more potent for you if you played RE, even if only in part._

_**A/N - Just finished playing through RE3:Nemesis, so that should reflect some in the writing to come.**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

I felt exhausted. I was finished with class for the weekend, and I just wanted to head to the dinning commons for some lunch (probably including a salad of mixed green, red, and blue lettuces, disgusting but nutritious) and head back to my dorm room to take a nap. But the student mail boxes were right outside the door of the dining commons, and I checked to see if I had any mail before going through the door to wait in the undeservingly long lunch line.

I could see papers in the tiny window of my mail slot, so I tried to remember the combination.

Instead of just turning the dial to open the mailbox, there was a line of writing beneath the dial that said: "Which way will you turn the dial?" and then two buttons beneath it, one to turn the dial "Left" and one to turn the dial "Right." It didn't seem to make the lock any more secure to me, but who was I to question the geniuses at Umbrella Co. that had donated the lockers to the University?

I played with the buttons for a while, trying to remember the combination. Each time I tried, little words lit up above the dial: "Nothing happened." I sighed.

Opening my backpack, I reached into the compartment marked "Files." Between my receipt from Wal-Mart, Professor Smith's study guide, and pictures of mom, dad, and Jill, I found the combination to my lock "11-18-11."

After studying the file for a moment, I pressed the "Right" button of my mailbox until the number "11" appeared. A bell rang and the dial reset to "0." I hit "Left" a couple times to get "18" and, when the dial reset again, I hit "Left" again until I got "11." Finally, there was the sound of wind rushing in through a car window, and my mailbox door swung open.

There was an envelope with friendly handwriting on it. I tore it open and read.

* * *

Letter from Fred's Mom

(Portions of the letter are smeared and illegible)

De r Fred,

Ev ry ne here really misses you. Yo r dad didn't want me to s nd you any ore money, but your gran ma said you could really use it. He e's fifty dollars for whate er you need.

Hope scho l's going well. Remember to not stay up too late, s udy hard, and eat your veg tables.

L ve,

Mom

* * *

There was another piece of paper in my mailbox.

It was the last exam I had taken in Professor Smith's class. My heart sank instantly. I'd gotten a C. I'd been really nervous about that exam. I'd tried pulling an all-nighter prior to the test, but between the two playmates Ned had brought home for the evening and Ted's bongos, it wasn't very productive.

My appetite was suddenly gone. Despite my mother's latest words of advice, I wasn't going to eat my vegetables. I turned around and made my way back to Professor Smith's room.

* * *

As I made my way down the hall to the mathematics classroom, I passed the science lab. When I had last seen it, the assignment on the board had said "Write about your favorite organism." Some class clown had since erased the "ni" from "organism."

"_That _would be _some_ assignment," I thought with a chuckle. In the corner of the room, I made out what looked to be a giant test tube with some sort of weird frog/fish/man creature inside, unlike anything I'd ever seen . . .

But there was no time to worry about that right now. I had to talk with Professor Smith about my exam.

I entered the mathematics class, slowly. It was completely different when it was unoccupied. The neat rows of empty desks looked somehow desolate. As I entered, I heard a noise. It was a low growl, followed by something resembling a pig's snort. The pattern continued steadily, softly but unnerving. I crept over to the door to Professor Smith's office. It was opened a crack already. The noise was much louder here. Part of me wanted to run away, but I was a Valentine, after all, and I knew exactly what Jill would do in this situation. I crept back against the wall and pushed the door the rest of the way open, making a quick examination of what I could see of the room inside. I still didn't have a clear view of what was causing the noise. I steeled myself and entered the office.

Then I saw Professor Smith, sleeping behind his desk, snoring.

"Umm, Professor Smith?" I said. Nothing. "Professor Smith," I repeated. I shook his shoulder gently. The pattern of the snore changed a little bit, but other than that nothing happened.

Then I noticed the clock radio on the desk in front of Smith. The digital read-out that should have told the time instead flashed "_**Hit 'A' to wake him up**_!"

I studied the clock for a moment and then saw the buttons on top were labeled _**"A"**_ and _**"B." **_I gingerly pressed the "A" button.

A song began playing quietly on the radio. Smith continued to snore.

_**"Tap 'B'" **_flashed on the clock's read-out. I hit the "B" button. The button continued to flash on the display screen, so I hit "B" repeatedly, harder and more rapidly each time. The volume rose higher and higher the faster I hit the button.

As the music started booming, Smith stirred in his chair. The display switched to_** "Hit 'A' and 'B' together."**_ The phrase startled me, and I hesitated too long. As I went to hit both buttons, Smith let loose a mighty roar and grabbed my wrist.

He hit the buttons and turned off the radio,

"What are you doing in my office?" the old man snarled.

I fought back tears and showed him the exam.

"It's about the exam."

"Yeah," Smith said.

"I could have done a lot better," I said. "I studied really hard for that test, but there was a lot of material, and my roommates kept me awake the whole night, so I didn't sleep well, and . . ."

"No more excuses. Miss Lennox didn't have any problem getting a solid A on that exam."

_Well, of course _Cindy_ didn't._

"Perhaps you could let her tutor you sometime," Smith continued.

Like that would ever happen. I'd rather die than let Cindy tutor me. Die or, at least take the C.

"Professor Smith, you don't understand," I said. "This test could bring down my final grade for the course. I could end up with a C, or even a D."

"That's lucky. It's more than some of your classmates are getting."

"But I'm a Valentine," I said, desperately trying to make him understand. "My family has really high expectations. My older sister Jill never brought home anything less than an A her whole life. I mean, surely you understand what it's like to live in the shadow of an older sibling . . ."

I looked into his eyes, expecting to find some sympathy, but instead he just seemed to become even more gruff.

"I was the eldest child," he thundered. "And you could never understand the responsibility that weighs on the shoulders of the first born."

"I'm sure I couldn't, sir, but maybe I could re-take the exam or do some extra credit . . . ?"

Smith leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. For a moment, I was worried he was going to begin his wicked snore again. After a minute, he sat back up, almost smiling, and said, "You know who Oslo Aglet is?"

The name didn't sound like any celebrity I knew of, but I could tell from the tone of voice that this was one of Professor Smith's heroes, so I said, "Of course I have. What's he up to lately?"

Professor Smith's gruffness told me my lie hadn't fooled him.

"Dr. Oslo Aglet," he said, "is one of the greatest mathematic geniuses of our time. He's been working on a new mathematic formula that will change the face of science as we know it, and he's just published his personal memoirs. He will be speaking at a convention in Chicago this weekend."

He paused, looking at me as if he expected me to fill in the gap. When I didn't, he rolled his eyes.

"I'll give you one hundred extra credit points if you bring me back a signed copy of Dr. Aglet's book."

"But . . . but . . . but," I stuttered. "That's in Chicago. All the time and the gas money . . . plus it will take the whole weekend, and I have classes to study for and homework to do, and . . . "

"You kids have nothing but time on your hands," the professor insisted. "I'd go to the convention myself, but _I_ have papers to grade all weekend and lesson plans to prepare for next week. And I really want an autographed copy of that book." He looked down at a pile of papers on his desk. "But if you're too busy to go, you can enjoy your C."

"Wait, Professor Smith," I said. He looked up again.

"Will you take the extra credit assignment?" he asked. "Yes or no?"

_Yes._

* * *

I had agreed to travel to Chicago to try to get my Advanced Algebra professor's hero to sign a copy of his book for extra credit, but I was hoping I wouldn't have to make my trip alone. Even with the fifty dollars in cash my mother had sent me, gas from Raccoon City to Chicago would be expensive, and if I could convince my roommates to make the trip with me I might be able to split the expenses three ways. Besides, I'd have trouble staying awake at the wheel on a round trip to the Windy City and back, and I could use the company.

Ted was watching Ned groom himself when I pitched the trip to them.

"Forget it, Fred," Ned said, slicking back his gelled hair even as he sprayed expensive cologne on his chest. "I've already got plans for tonight."

"Kitana?" I asked.

Ned gave me an odd look, as if he'd never heard the name before.

"No," he said. "Lara. You know. The girl who's studying abroad?"

"You mean the one from England?" Ted asked.

"Yeah. The archeology major."

"Dude. She is _soooo_ hot."

"We wouldn't have to leave tonight," I said. "We could take off first thing tomorrow morning."

"Trust me," Ned said, his smirk doubling in size. "After what I have planned for Lara tonight, I'll need the whole rest of the weekend to recover." He and Ted slapped each other five.

"I'd come with you, man," Ted offered. "But my funds are already spoken for. Running low on . . . eh . . . school supplies." And he pantomimed smoking.

"Since when do you want to go anywhere for the weekend anyway?" Ned asked. "You've never once gone home on a weekend. You've always spent Saturday and Sunday in the dorm room or in the library studying."

"I told you, it's for a grade!" I said. "If I don't complete this extra credit assignment for Professor Smith, I could get a C or worse in Advanced Algebra. Besides, I thought you guys might want to tag along." Both of them looked at me, and I realized I had started to raise my voice. "Isn't this supposed to be part of the college experience? Crazy, spontaneous road trips with your roommates? Male bonding? I thought you guys would jump at the chance to spend a night or two in the big city instead of sitting around here in the middle of nowhere at Raccoon U."

I put my hand on the handle to my bedroom door, ready to start packing.

"You guys don't want to come, then fine. I'll go by myself. And if I run out of gas, I'll just walk the rest of the way to Chicago."

"Hey, Fred."

I turned to face Ned.

"There's actually this girl I knew once, told me to look her up if I was ever in Chicago. I'd totally like to hook up with her again."

"And you know me," Ted said, with a shrug. "I'm up for pretty much anything. Just tell me where the party's at."

"Thanks, guys."

"But we're not leaving until tomorrow," Ned said, returning to his grooming. "There's no way I'm leaving Lara waiting tonight."

* * *

_**A/N - Last time, I said I expected to have this chapter done around September, and it's late October now. I'm working through some computer problems right now, but hopefully I'll be able to have another chapter up soon.**_


	6. Raccoon Forest

_Disclaimer: I don't own legal rights to any of the copyrighted Resident Evil stuff in this story._

_**John – **_**What's a matter? Didn't like that last chapter?**

_**Friendtrilobyte – **_**Oh, architecture and not being able to use a calculator while taking damage!**

_**A/N – Sorry it's taken me so long to get around to writing the next chapter. For those of you still reading, hope you didn't mind the wait.**_

* * *

Having decided it was wiser to spend the night sleeping on the couch in the main lounge rather than wait to get kicked out by Ned and Lara, I took my room key and tried to use it at my door.

"It is not necessary use that now," I heard Ned's voice say.

"Ned!"

"Maybe you shouldn't leave that hallway."

"Ned, I'm coming in."

"Better finish searching the hall first."

I shrugged and made a few laps up and down the hallway, noting nothing architecturally significant. I made it back to the door and tried to use the key on it again.

"Better finish searching the hall first," Ned repeated.

I rolled my eyes and opened the door. After I walked through my suite, I used my room key on the door to my bedroom and stepped in.

I found Ned, looking embarrassed, with each limb bound to a bedpost with a different colored handkerchief. He was trying to undo the knot around his right wrist.

"Ned, does your depravity know no bounds? Yes or no?"

"No!" Ned said. "I have a knife on the top of my dresser. Grab it."

I looked through the clutter on Ned's desk until I saw a small pocket knife.

"You found the pocket knife!" Ned said excitedly. "Will you take the pocket knife? Yes or no?"

"Yes," I said.

"Good. Now cut me loose."

I opened the blade on the pocket knife and started sawing through Ned's bonds.

"So, you and Lara had fun last night?" My roommate tried to give me a dirty look, but he couldn't help smiling.

"Do we have to leave on your stupid road trip so early? I didn't get any sleep."

I finished freeing Ned's hands and feet and then offered him his pocket knife. He waved it away.

"Keep it," he said. "I just told you that you could take it."

Luckily, there was still an empty slot in my backpack. I figured the pocket knife might come in handy.

* * *

We knocked on the door to Ted's room. After the door opened and the ensuing puff of smoke vanished, Ted moseyed out and we began loading the trunk of my car. It was a difficult task, since the trunk only had room for eight items, but we somehow managed to fit our backpacks and all the other road trip necessities inside.

We'd only been driving a little while before we decided to stop at the UmbrellAmart for some much needed caffeine. I went in, studying the door carefully as I pushed it open. (There was a flyer stuck to it, advertising a gallon of milk for only 99¢.) I poured four tall cups of coffee and set them on the counter. I was surprised to recognize the cashier.

"Moe?"

"No," said the man in the navy blue hood, his voice muffled behind a thick scarf. He pointed to his nametag, which said "Joe."

"What are you buying, stranger?"

"My name's Fred."

"What was that, stranger?"

"Never mind," I said. "I'll just take these four cups of coffee."

"What d'you need those for? You goin' huntin' an elephant?" Joe asked, laughing a creepy chuckle. For obvious reasons, the question struck me as random and odd.

"No," I said. "Me and some friends are just driving to Chicago."

I gave him his money. He laughed again and said "Thank you."

"Come back anytime."

I carefully balanced the four cups of coffee and took them out to the car.

* * *

We still yawned, but not as incessantly after we had our coffee.

UmbrellAmart was on the city limits, and I soon was driving through Raccoon Forest. It had been a long time since I'd last left the city, and I enjoyed the change in scenery. The grass was so green, and so were the leaves on the tree. The sky was clear and blue and dotted with fluffy white clouds.

After about an hour, none of us were enjoying the scenery anymore. The road was bumpy and our butts were all sore from bouncing up and down on the seats. Naturally, Ted seemed the least bothered by this while Ned moaned the loudest.

"There sure are a lot of carnivorous plants here," Ned remarked.

"You mean _coniferous_," I said. "There's no such thing as carnivorous plants."

Ted's eyes became so wide, I was actually surprised by how bloodshot they were.

"There totally are carnivorous plants, man," he said.

Ned and I tried to wave it off, but Ted wouldn't be silenced.

"The government has been working on creating carnivorous plants for years," Ted continued. "They inject plants with all kinds of chemicals, man! Then the plants get really big and they have, like, tentacle-like vines that wrap around people and, like, suckers on the vines to drink blood. And the only way you can kill them is by attacking its vital organs when the petal-like flaps open to reveal them, or mixing together special chemicals, like blue chemicals and red chemicals and dark brown chemicals and orange chemicals and . . ."

"You tried mixing blue and yellow herbs after I told you not to, didn't you?"

Ted kept going on about "Plant 42" and "UMB number 20" and "V-JOLT" until we saw something. A kid who looked about our age was standing by the side of the road in the middle of the forest, his thumb up to hitchhike. He was wearing a trendy leather jacket, with a knapsack slung over his shoulder like he was running away from home, and had ridiculously long, wispy blonde bangs.

"What's that guy doing?" Ned asked.

"I think he needs a ride," I said. "Should I pick him up? Yes or no?"

"Do it, man," Ted said. "Help a guy out."

"Forget it," Ned said. "We don't know anything about this guy. He could be dangerous."

I didn't want to say anything, but I was thinking the same thing.

"He doesn't look dangerous, man," Ted said. "He looks like a regular guy just like us."

"Not just like us," Ned said. "Look at that woman's hair cut. He's got to be some kind of pansy. We don't need him taking up room in our car."

We were getting closer, and the blonde kid was looking right at us.

"What do you think he's doing out here?" I asked.

"Look at him," Ned replied. "He's probably on his way to a Backstreet Boys concert or something."

The kid was looking right at me now.

"I'm going to stop," I said.

I stepped on the brakes and tried to roll down the window. It wasn't easy to do, since the windows were duct-taped shut, so I gave up and opened the driver's side door.

"Hey, friend," I said. "Need a ride? Yes or no?"

The kid just nodded and said "Yeah" in a voice unusually gruff for his age. I opened the trunk so he could put his knapsack in the one remaining storage slot we had in the trunk. He opened the door and took a seat next to Ted.

"Where ya headed?"

"Chicago," our hitchhiker said. "I'm on break from the Police Academy. Going home to see my family."

"It just happens we're heading to Chicago, too," I said. "How'd you get all the way out here?"

"My car was in the shop, so I tried to take a bike. But the chain got caught and I lost control of the bike. Went over a bridge into Circular River. The bike sank to the bottom, but I managed to grab my knapsack with my teeth and swim five miles to shore. I climbed to shore at the edge of Raccoon Forest, where I was attacked by a bear. I managed to ward it off using my knife and a lighter.

"By this time, it was dark. I built a small lean-to out of some driftwood and lit a fire to keep the animals away, but then it rained really hard. I had to stay awake and on my guard all night. Plus, to avoid pneumonia, I'd stripped out of my wet clothes, so I had to hug my chest to stay warm and sit naked, with my back to a tree, the branches my only shelter from the pouring rain, drenched and cold. I listened to the sounds of approaching animals all night.

"In the morning, when the rain stopped, I beat my clothes against a rock to try to get them as dry as possible. I got dressed again and ate a few berries for my light breakfast. Then I started to hike for the Arklay Mountains. That's when I heard the engine of your car so I thought I'd see if I could flag you down for a ride."

He paused to take a breath for the first time.

"My name's Leon Scott Kennedy, by the way."

I shook his hand.

"My name's Fred Valentine," I said. "These are my roommates, Ned and Ted."

Leon shook their hands as well.

"Can I call you Scotty?" Ned asked.

"No."

"Whatever, sissy boy," Ned muttered.

We turned on the radio and listened to music ("Anything but the stupid Backstreet Boys," Leon demanded) and drove along happily, everything going fine.

Until the car broke down just South of the Arklay Mountains.

* * *

_**A/N – To be continued, hopefully soon.**_


	7. Arklay Mountains Hospitality

_DISCLAIMER – I own no rights to Jill Valentine, Raccoon City, Leon Scott Kennedy, the Arklay Mountains, etc., etc. Also, some lines are "borrowed" word-for-word from "Resident Evil 4."_

**_Stardust4 – That's right. Leon's here, and he's sticking around, too._**

**_Friendtrilobyte – I thought the Leon monologue was pretty epic as well, if I can say so myself. Pretty proud of Ted's Plant 42 rant, too._**

**_A/N – I apologize ahead of time to any readers who are of Ozark or Appalachian heritage._**

* * *

Ned stood in his undershirt looking at the car's engine.

"This doesn't look good," he said.

"Ned, do you even know anything about cars?" I asked.

Ned just stared silently for a moment.

"I know that this doesn't look good."

"Let me take a look," Leon S. Kennedy said, stepping closer to Ned.

"Look, Pretty Boy," Ned responded. "If we need help picking out new shoes or something, we'll ask you. But auto mechanics is a real man's . . ."

"I think I see what's wrong," Leon said, cutting him off. "If we can find a wrench, a battery, and some fuel randomly lying around in the forest somewhere, I can have this car running in no time."

"That's great," Ned continued. "Where are we supposed to find a wrench?"

"Dudes, I thought I saw one lying around when we were driving by an hour ago," Ted spoke up from the back seat. "I was totally wondering what we would do with it if we picked it up."

I examined the sky.

"We're not going to do anything right now. We don't want to be wandering around the forest looking for randomly placed objects when the sun goes down. We'll stay here, sleep in the car, and figure out what we're doing in the morning."

Ned put his shirt and coat back on and hugged himself as a cold breeze rolled by.

"Town's not too far from here," Leon said. "We could run into town, ask for some help."

"No way. I'm not just leaving the car here in the middle of the woods."

"Two of us can go and the other two can stay," Leon suggested.

"Fine. Ned, come with me to town. Ted, Leon, you stay here and watch the car."

"If it's all the same to you," Ned said, "I'd rather stay here."

"Fine. Ted, you come with me and . . ."

"Oh, no!" He cast a wary eye at Leon. "You're not leaving me alone with Sissy Boy here."

Leon groaned and shrugged.

"I can go."

"Alright. Leon and I will go into the town and look for help."

* * *

Leon and I had been hiking for about half an hour when we heard the rumblings of an oncoming motor. We started frantically waving our arms. A rusty, banged-up pick-up truck made its way down the path and stopped beside us.

A sunburned face with a very large jaw under a big straw hat popped out the window.

"Howdy, fellers," he said. "Anythin' I can do fer ya?"

"Actually, our car broke down. Would you mind giving us a lift to the nearest garage?"

"Hop in, boys," he said.

Leon and I squeezed into the truck cab and rode towards the town in the Arklay Mountains.

"My name's Jeb." He shook our hands. "I'm not takin' you to no garage. Yer comin' to my place. My boy Jimmy John's great with machines. He can fix yer vehicle."

He smiled proudly. He was missing most of his teeth, and the teeth that were still there were dark yellow.

Jeb drove up the mountainside, past several rustic shacks, to a decrepit cabin. There was an equally decrepit garage nearby.

"Just wait 'til ya boys meet my wife and my aunt," Jeb said.

A dirty woman, dressed in a dirty blue dress, her hair tied up in a handkerchief, was rocking on a porch swing in front of the cabin, strumming on a banjo. Jeb grabbed her and kissed her hard and long on the mouth.

"This is my wife, Marilu," Jeb said. "Marilu, these poor boys were havin' some trouble in the forest. Me and Jimbo gonna bring their ve-hickle to our gar-age."

Marilu smiled a mostly-toothless grin, similar to her husband's, at us.

"Jeb, where's your aunt?" I asked.

"This is her," Jeb replied, giving Marilu another squeeze.

I looked at Leon and he looked back at me as we both tried to hide the disgust and shock from our face.

Jeb clapped his hands and we saw what looked like a younger, taller, and lankier version of Jeb coming toward us, wearing a pair of blue jean overalls, a trucker cap, and nothing else.

"Here's my boy Jimmy John. Jimmy John, we's gonna go out in the forest and take a look at these boy's ve-hickle."

"What language is he trying to speak?" Leon whispered to me.

"I'm not 100% sure," I whispered back, "but I think it's supposed to be English."

I described to Jeb and Jimmy John the place where we'd left Ned and Ted watching over my broken-down car.

"We's gonna go take a look, boys," Jeb said, as he and Jimmy John climbed back into the truck. "If'n you boys wait here, Marilu will entertain you."

As Jeb and his boy drove off, Marilu rocked back in her chair and stared at us, and then, without saying anything, started strumming on her banjo again.

"I hate to make these kinds of guesses," Leon said, whispering again, "but I have a feeling their family reunions are usually pretty small."

* * *

It was getting dark and the crickets sounded like they were dueling with Marilu's banjo when Jeb's truck finally pulled back up to the cabin. Jimmy John was pushing my car behind it. Ted was helping. Ned was pretending to.

Marilu started banging on a triangle hanging from the shingled roof with a tiny wand.

"Just in time for supper," Jeb said. He rubbed his hands together. "Come on, fellers. We'll feed ya and give ya shelter for the night. Jimmy John should be finished with yer ve-hicle by tomorrow mornin'."

* * *

We sat down at a wide, round table. I wrinkled my nose.

"Something rotten is caked on the table," Leon whispered.

I sat between Leon and Ned. There was an empty seat next to Ned. Jeb sat beside that, with another empty space beside him, for his wife and aunt. Jimmy John was seated next, with Ted stuck in between Jimmy John and Leon.

Marilu put small wooden bowls filled with some sort of thick stew before each of us. I tried to suppress a gag. It smelled like manure and looked like green mucous.

"What seems to be food has started to rot," Leon whispered to me. "But no one has bothered to throw it away."

"You know what these people are, right?" Ned whispered into my other ear. "Arklay hillbillies. Backwards, inbred, dirty-footed cannibals. I've heard they eat each other."

"Ned, you should be ashamed of yourself," I whispered back. "Those are horrible stereotypes."

"Bet they'll try to make us squeal like pigs," Ned continued. "You've seen 'Deliverance', right?"

"No. I haven't. I tried reading the book once, but I lost interest after . . ."

"Fine. Just don't tell Ted. You don't want to get him started on Burt Reynolds again."

Next, Marilu set a little clay mug next to each of our bowls and started pouring a steaming liquid into them from a rusty kettle.

"There's an unpleasant odor coming from the kettle," Leon remarked, low enough so just Ned, Ted, and I could hear him. "It sure doesn't smell like a refreshing drink to me."

"If ya'll would wait to say grace," Jeb said, "my li'l angel Chrissy Lou will be down any minute."

We waited uneasily for a moment. Leon stared at a painting behind Jeb.

"I notice you looking at our portrait," Jeb said proudly.

"What a sinister looking fellow," Leon said.

"That's my pa. He died last summer."

Leon lowered his gaze to the bowl of green glop in front of him.

I heard footsteps and looked at the doorway. I'd been curious about what Jeb's daughter/niece/second cousin would look like. Now I was scratching my head. Everything I knew about genetics failed me. The daughter conceived by Jeb and Marilu should _not _have logically looked anything like Chrissy Lou, let alone an inbred Arklay Mountain girl. She was about twenty, tall, and in very good shape. Her straw-colored hair was tied into cute pigtails that ran down dimpled cheeks. She smiled and she still had all of her teeth in her pretty, full-lipped mouth. She was wearing a short skirt, showing off plenty of nice leg.

My jaw dropped, and I noticed Ned's jaw was dropped even further. So was Jimmy John's. Chrissy Lou took the seat next to Ned.

"You're right," I whispered to Ned while Jeb said a prayer. "These people are terrible, terrible stereotypes. Like characters from a videogame or something."

Ned wasn't paying attention to me. He was completely focused on Chrissy Lou's . . . uhm . . . "ballistics." Only Ted and Leon seemed unfazed. They were both too busy examining their stew.

Jeb and Marilu started passing dishes. Leon handed me a plate with what looked like a barely dead raccoon on it.

"Will you take some of the meat?" Jeb asked. "Yes or no?"

"Uhm, no thank you," I said.

As I passed the raccoon meat on to Ned, who heaped a large amount on his plate without even looking at it, Leon passed what I hoped was a pot of mashed potatoes to me.

"Will you take the potatoes? Yes or no?"

"Yes," I said, politely taking a small scoop.

"Will you take some corn? Yes or no?"

"Sure." I heaped some of the creamed corn on my plate, trying to ignore the flies buzzing around the dish it was passed in.

"Will you take a biscuit? Yes or no?"

"Yes, please."

"How many biscuits would you like? 1, 2, 3, or reset your plate?"

"Reset my . . . what? I'll just take one."

I took the biscuit and some butter. Then Leon passed me a dish with a very suspicious looking casserole in it.

"Will you take the casserole? Yes or no?"

"No," I said.

"That's Marilu's prize-winning casserole," Jeb said, clenching his knife and fork tightly.

"You will be insulting us if you don't try some."

"I would," I said, desperately looking for an excuse not to. "But . . . there are no compartments left open on my plate."

"Make some," Jeb growled.

I chuckled nervously and tried to put some of the butter on my corn.

"You can't combine them," Jeb said.

I tried to put some of the butter on my mashed potatoes.

"You can't combine them," Jeb said.

I put the butter on my biscuit.

"You'd better be taking two compartments for Marilu's casserole," Jeb said threateningly.

I took a spoonful of the corn and started to dump it on top of my buttered biscuit.

"You can't combine them," Jeb said.

I felt very strange letting Jeb tell me which foods I could and couldn't combine, but I didn't want to insult his hospitality. I mixed my corn and mashed potatoes together. Once they were combined, I looked at Jeb for approval and mashed the mixture into my biscuit. Jeb nodded.

"That looks awfully good," he said.

I nodded and then heaped some of Marilu's casserole onto the open compartments on my plate. I was afraid to guess what was in it. Jeb kept staring at me.

"Why don't you go on and take a bite?" he asked. "Or don't you think Marilu's a good cook?"

"Oh, no!" I insisted. "I'm sure Marilu is a great cook. Why, if she cooks anything like she plays the banjo . . ."

I cut a tiny piece of the casserole off with my fork and slowly lifted it to my mouth. I closed my eyes and took a bite. It took all of my willpower not to spit it back up.

"Good, isn't it?"

I nodded, holding the food on my tongue, still afraid to swallow.

Leon was poking at his food with his fork. Ted, on the other hand, was ravenously devouring the bowl of green stew.

"This is so good," he said enthusiastically. "Just like my mom makes it."

Ned kept trying to eat but kept missing his mouth with his fork. He was distracted by Chrissy Lou's dimples.

"Don't worry about the leftovers," Jeb assured us. "Many small insects feat on them."

"The water is awfully dirty," Leon muttered in my ear. "No way I'm drinking this."

Ned rubbed some more raccoon on his cheek.

* * *

Jeb led us upstairs to a bedroom.

"This here's the guest room," he said. "You boys can sleep here for the night. But I don't wanna catch none of you tryin' to sneak out past lights out. Don't trust anyone 'round my li'l angel Chrissy Lou."

After Jeb left, the four of us examined the bed.

"Guess we'll have to share," Leon said.

Ned jumped back as if Leon had slapped him.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Blondie?"

Leon groaned and shook his head.

"Fine," he said. "I don't need sleep, anyway. I'll just stay on the floor all night, sharpening my hunting knife."

He proceeded to pull out a large bowie knife and a whetting stone.

"Where did those come from?" Ned asked, shocked.

"I just always carry them," Leon replied. "They're free items."

Ted, Ned, and I slowly climbed onto the bed and tried to get comfortable.

"Did you see the daughter?" Ned asked.

"Dude, forget it," I said. "She's the product on an unholy union. You're children would have three eyes and twelve toes."

"That's a risk I'd be willing to take."

Leon paced in a small circle three times before squatting down beside the bed.

"Don't hog the covers, dudes."

"Can we establish a no-spooning rule tonight?"

"If you're going to keep thinking about the daughter, that's a rule I can get behind."

"Night, Fred. Night, Ted."

"Night, Ned. Night, Fred."

"Night, Ted. Night, Ned."

Then, in a chorus, "Night, Leon."

Leon's only response was a snort.

* * *

I had just finally nodded off when I was startled awake. Leon was grabbing my arm and shaking it. I tried to speak but he put a finger to my mouth and shushed me.

"Did you hear that?"

There was a loud creaking sound and a thumping. Someone was coming up the stairs. I tried to shake Ted awake, but he just kept snoring.

When the door was kicked open, Ted finally woke up. Jeb stood in the doorway, glassy eyed, holding a pitchfork, and moaning loudly.

"_Muere, muere, muere_," Jeb chanted.

As he shambled forward, Ted and I grabbed the blanket and crept as far back in the bed as we could. Even Leon started moving back towards the wall.

"_Tey voy a matar_!" Jeb cried, thrusting the pitchfork into the mattress right between Ted and I. We screamed as feathers flew into the air. Jeb thrust the pitchfork into the mattress again. "_Te voy a hacer Picadillo_!"

Ted and I kept screaming. Leon remained silent, but his back was firmly against the wall. Although, to be fair, he did have the blade of his knife pointed at Jeb.

Jeb just threw his head back and laughed.

"You boys should see the looks on yer faces," he said. "Bet ya didn't even know I could speak Spain talk."

Then we heard more thumping and moaning coming from outside the room. That's when I noticed that Ned was missing.

Jeb gripped his pitchfork and started across the hall. The rest of us chased after him.

Ned was between the sheets and Chrissy Lou, making the bedpost rattle and thump against the wall.

"Oh, daddy! Oh, daddy! Oh, daddy!" Chrissy Lou said over and over. When she looked up and saw Jeb, she said, "Oh, Daddy!" one more time, but this time it had completely different connotations.

"Daddy, 't ain't what it looks like, I swear!"

"_Tey voy a matar_!" Jeb screamed again, but this time he sounded like he meant it. He charged forward with his pitchfork. Ned flinched and the pitchfork stuck in the wall next to his ear. For a second, Ned just looked at the pitchfork, bug-eyed. Then, while Jeb tried to pull the pitchfork out, Ned untangled himself from Chrissy Lou and rolled out of the bed and onto the floor. He'd hardly hit the ground before he was back on his feet, scooping up as many of his clothes as he could and running to join the rest of us in the doorway.

We all tripped over each other's feet on the way down the stairs and ended up tumbling the rest of the distance. I hit the ground last. When I looked over my shoulder, Jeb was screaming and charging down the stairway, still wielding the pitchfork. I looked forward again and saw that Ned was already out the front door.

We made it to the garage. Jimmy John had his back turned to us, looking for something at the tool bench. I slammed the hood down and we all piled into the car. I was praying as I turned the key in the ignition. The motor purred and purred in vain. Nothing happened.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," Ned said, pounding on the dashboard. I continued turning the key as an oil-smeared Jimmy John stared at us, his large jaw agape.

""T ain't finished yet."

I kept turning the key desperately back and forth in the ignition. Finally, the car lurched backwards in reverse. I yanked the wheel and saw Jeb running at us, the pitchfork still in hand. The car made a donut and we were staring at Jimmy John again. He was now cocking a shotgun (a 12-gauge pump-action shotgun) and aiming it at my face. I pushed down hard on the accelerator and the car skidded backwards and away from the garage.

I yanked the wheel again. This time, the car turned in the right direction and I shifted into forward drive. There was the sound of a gunshot and glass tinkled in the backseat. Another shotgun blast shattered the rearview mirror.

We were pulling back onto the main road when I heard another loud sound. This time, it was a terrifying buzzing. Marilu had appeared out of nowhere and was now trying to cut through the trunk with a chainsaw.

I pushed all the way down on the accelerator and the car lurched forward up the mountainside, leaving Marilu and her chainsaw in a cloud of black exhaust. When we made it past several other cabins, I looked over my shoulder and saw the figures of Jeb, Jimmy John, and Marilu, still giving chase, but now looking like specks behind us. I lost sight of them completely after swerving around the next curve. All the same, I drove as fast as the car would let me until we made it to the top of the mountain.

**_

* * *

_****_A/N – Would you like another chapter? Yes or no?_**


	8. Arklay Mountains Wilderness

_DISCLAIMER – I own no rights to Jill Valentine, Raccoon City, Leon Scott Kennedy, the Arklay Mountains, etc., etc. _

_**A/N – I was hoping I'd be able to squeeze out two chapters in March, but unfortunately I wasn't able to get this finished until early April. I thought tonight would be a good night to finish this chapter, since the trailer for the newest Resident Evil movie just came out. Of course, the movies are nowhere near as cool as the games, but it still looked pretty cool.**_

_**Devil Without a Cause **__& __**Stardust 4 – **__You guys wanted another chapter, so you got another chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing._

_**Veronica Kennedy**__ & __**Vampuric Spider**__ – Fred and company will be running into the Merchant, or rather Moe and his brothers, again quite soon._

_**BlazingFireAngelXXX**__ – I'm taking advantage of parody to cover up my admittedly limited knowledge of the Resident Evil canon. I mean, for all I know, it could have been revealed somewhere that Jill is definitely an only child, but I don't think that's the case. Anyway, this fic is set exactly two months before "the Mansion incident" in the RE storyline._

* * *

When we had put some distance between the car and Jeb's shack, I relaxed a little bit and switched on the car radio. The song "Zombie" by The Cranberries came on. For some reason, that song always reminds me of my sister.

I thought back to our recent conversation at the pancake place and Jill's offer to help get me into the police academy. Jill had brought several of her friends from her S.T.A.R.S. team home before. Usually, it was her partner, Chris Redfield. They sat really close together at the dinner table and laughed at each other's inside jokes. Jill seemed to really like him, but he seemed kinda like a tool to me.

I was really happy, though, when I found out Chris had a really hot younger sister about my age named Claire. When I met the beautiful redhead, I thought I'd finally found a kindred spirit, someone who understood what it was like to live in the shadow of an older sibling in S.T.A.R.S. Then I found out Chris had trained Claire to be an expert marksman and fighter who was almost as skilled as he was. _So much for kindred spirits_. Jill had taken me to the S.T.A.R.S. gun range once. Due to a very unfortunate instance involving my clumsiness with a firearm, I haven't been allowed back since.

Then there was Barry Burton, another member of my sister's team who helped himself to more than enough servings of my mother's cooking. He seemed alright, I guess, but there was something a little bit off about him. For one thing, he loved guns a little too much, and was always bringing a new one to the dinner table to show off. Also, he kept saying awkward things to Jill. Like how he thought she was "the master of lock picking." Once, I even heard him say something to her about a "Jill sandwich." I wondered if that sandwich would also involve Barry's wife.

Now, the one member of Jill's team who I really respected was Jill's boss, Captain Albert Wesker. That man was cool. He always wore these really awesome sunglasses, even inside. I didn't know about the rest of Jill's team, but Wesker seemed like a really solid, good guy. If I were going to be like any member of S.T.A.R.S., I wanted to be just like Albert Wesker.

Ned kept slapping my shoulder. This knocked me out of my reverie and I finally noticed plumes of thick black smoke were coming from the back of our car.

The car stopped dead.

I turned the key in the ignition a couple times, then pounded on the dashboard a couple of times, but nothing happened. In frustration, I got out of the car.

Leon and Ned joined me in examining the engine.

After a moment, Leon spoke up in a calm monotone.

"Guess Jimmy John wasn't done fixing it."

"Stupid piece of junk," Ned said.

In frustration, he kicked the car. It rolled a little bit, then tumbled off the mountain ledge. We all looked over and watched as the car flipped over, crashed into another ledge, tumbled over again, hit the ledge below it, flipped over again, and continued rolling until it landed crumpled and upside down in the Circular River below.

All at once, the three of us thought the same thing.

"Ted!" we yelled in chorus.

"What is it, guys?" Ted said, stepping out from behind a tree and zipping his pants fly back up.

All in unison, we did a double take.

"You jerk!" Ned said. "We thought you were dead."

"Why would you think that?" Ted said, shrugging.

"Because the car just fell off the cliff."

Ted joined us on the ledge and peered over.

"Oh, yeah. It totally did." He stepped back. "Guess you'll have to go back to town and ask for some help."

"Not gonna happen," Ned said, backing to where the car was five minutes earlier. "No way I'm going anywhere near those cannibalistic psychos. They tried to take my head off with a chainsaw."

"No one's going back to town," I assured him.

"Let's just chill out here and wait for help," Ted suggested.

"No way!" I said. "Guys, we've already wasted one night. The weekend's almost over. If we don't hurry up, I'm going to miss that convention and this will all be for nothing."

I looked around and didn't see Leon. Then I heard him clear his throat. I looked ahead and saw that he was already hiking the path down the mountain.

"Fred's right," he said. "If we can hurry, we can make it down the mountain in three, maybe four, hours. Who's coming?"

Leon turned around and started hiking again. I turned to Ned and Ted.

Ned scoffed.

"I'm surprised he's not worried about getting his hair messy."

We started marching after Leon.

* * *

We'd barely made it down the mountain when Ned collapsed. Ted moseyed over and sat down beside him.

"I'm _hungry_," Ned whined.

"Me too," Ted agreed. "I think I've got the munchies _majorly!_"

"C'mon, guys!" I shouted, clapping my hands. "We've got to get a move on!"

But in my heart I agreed with them. We'd barely touched the raccoon we'd been offered for dinner the previous night. I looked at Leon, and he seemed to be nodding his head in agreement.

"We should split up," he said. "See if any of us can find anything to eat. Don't go too far. Let's all try to get back to this spot in an hour."

"I'd hate to admit it," Ned said, "but I think Blondie here's got the right idea."

* * *

We each took off in a different direction through the woods. I moved along nervously, trying not to stray too far from the beaten path. I had never been what could be considered an "outdoorsy" person, and the idea of being lost somewhere in the Arklay Mountains wilderness terrified me. Especially when I considered what types of wildlife could be lurking around there.

I finally got up the nerve to stray a little bit from the beaten path and passed through a row of trees. Beyond the trees was a pretty nice clearing, with lush green grass, a couple bushes, sparse trees and rocks, and a random weathervane.

I started moving closer to the weathervane when a sound froze me in my tracks. It was a beastly growl. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise to attention. Light footsteps approached behind me, and then another growl. I could feel warm breath on the back of my neck.

I shrieked and jumped into the air.

"Chill out," I heard Ned's voice say. "That's just my stomach. I'm not used to going this long between meals."

I wiped the veil of sweat off my forehead and turned to face him. He seemed to perk up when he spotted the weathervane. He walked over and touched it.

"What's this doing here?" Ned asked. "I wonder what will happen if we turn it. I bet a secret cave would open up or something."

"I think it's just here to tell which direction the wind is going," I said. "But why someone would want to know that in the middle of the woods is beyond me."

"I'm going to turn it. Which direction should I turn it in? North, East, South, West, or just leave it where it is?"

"Just leave it where it is, man."

Ned scoffed.

"I'm going to turn it West."

Ned turned the weathervane so that it was facing West, the exact opposite of the direction it had been facing before. Then an Eastward wind blew. The weathervane spun around and lashed across Ned's face, drawing a little bit of blood. Ned swore and brought a hand up to hold the cut on his cheek.

"I told you not to mess with it," I insisted.

Ned just pointed to something in the distance. Beyond the clearing we could see an eerie blue flame.

We both crept closer to examine the flame. I could see a man wrapped in a navy blue hooded-robe with a purple muffler around his face. He was standing next to a wooden torch on a tall pole, on which the blue flame was burning.

"Blue light specials right here, boy-o's," he said in a thick Cockney accent. "Got a lot of good things to buy."

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Ned asked.

"My name's Flo," the Merchant said.

"Flo?" I said, incredulously. "What's that even short for?"

The Merchant shrugged me off and opened one side of his robe. It was lined with pockets filled with all types of supplies.

"Seems like you boys could use some supplies," he said. "What will it be, strangers?"

"I don't know about this," I said.

"How about this new backpack?" Flo suggested. "It has storage space for up to thirty items."

"Fine. We'll take it."

"What else are you buying?"

"What do you have as far as food goes?" Ned asked.

"Food?" Flo said. "If it's food you be wantin' . . ."

He proceeded to show us bags of trail mix, candy bars, apple slices, carrot sticks, and boxes of raisins.

"We'll take all of it," Ned said hastily.

"Thank you," Flo said, laughing heartily. "That will be 150 pesetas."

"But . . .?" Ned looked confused. "We're not even in Spain."

"Just give him some money," I whispered.

"Why me?" Ned asked. "You were the one who wanted to take this stupid road trip."

"But you're the one with all the money."

Ned groaned and reached inside his pocket.

"Will you take a check?"

Flo shook his head.

"Not enough cash, Stranger."

"Fine." Ned reached into another pocket and pulled out his wallet. He took out a wad of cash. "All I've got is fifty dollars. Will that work for you?"

Laughing merrily, Flo took Ned's money and filled the backpack with food.

"Come back anytime."

Ned and I walked away.

"Whatever," Ned said. "I'm not coming back."

* * *

When we made it back to the spot we had separated at, we found Leon standing by an open fire.

"What's up, guys?" he asked.

"We bought some food from this weird guy in the middle of the woods," Ned said, holding the backpack up triumphantly. "How about you?"

"I found a nearby stream," Leon said. "I jumped in and managed to kill a few bass with my knife. I cleaned them and scaled them. Then I dug a small pit in the ground, gathered some twigs and branches, and started a fire by banging two rocks together. Then I put the rocks by the fire and used the hot surface to cook the fish. I also climbed a tree and found some eggs in a nest. I cooked those up, too. Also, I collected some water from the stream to keep us hydrated."

He offered a canteen in our direction.

"Where did you get that?" Ned asked. "All of our supplies were in the trunk of the car when it went over the cliff."

Leon looked somber. More so than usual.

"You don't want to know," he said.

Ned backed away.

"You're right," I said. "I don't."

I took the canteen, took a large swig, and passed it back to Leon. He offered the canteen to Ted, who heartily gulped some down.

"The fish should be ready to eat now," Leon said. "I managed to find some wild thyme, dill, and coriander to season them with."

"Thyme and dill, huh?" Ned said. "What a pansy! How about you, Ted?"

"I found some herbs, too," he said. He was lying on the ground rather contentedly, a big smile on his face. "But not rosemary and thyme or anything like that. I found some yellows and some blues and some greens . . ."

* * *

_**A/N – I wanted to have a joke about how pesetas aren't accepted as currency anymore, even in Spain, but this is set in 1998, so although pesetas weren't legal currency anymore when Leon met the Merchant, they still had a few years to go when Fred first encountered the Merchant.**_


	9. The Return of the Living Fred

_Disclaimer: I don't own legal rights to any of the copyrighted Resident Evil stuff in this story._

_**A/N – Have I really left Fred on "Pause" this whole time?**_

_**You know those moments in the RE games when, after some cut scene, you find yourself, all of a sudden, controlling a different playable character for a brief time? Well, that's what's about to happen here.**_

_**

* * *

**_

My name is Leon Scott Kennedy. I was heading home from the police academy to see my family when I somehow ended up stranded in the Arklay Mountains with three college frat boys.

I had left the others sitting by the campfire I had made by striking two stones together over a pile of small sticks and twigs I had placed in a small pit I had dug in the ground using my bare hands, where they stayed and got into a heated discussion about some video game they'd all played. I personally had never found much time for video games, because I find the characters and their interactions so unrealistic.

I was out by the edge of a stream, filling my canteen and collecting various nuts and berries to provide nourishment for myself and the others when a crow suddenly swooped down from the sky and started biting my arm. I swung at it with my knife.

The bird fell to the ground, dead. I bent down to pick it up, thinking it would make a nice meal if properly prepared and cooked. That's when I noticed I'd managed to slice open its stomach and that it was filled with, of all things, several dollars worth of Spanish coins. I thought to myself that Spanish currency was an awfully odd thing to find inside of a dead crow, but I pocketed the cash without questioning it too much.

That's when I heard it.

"_Leon!"_

The voice was high-pitched. Whiny. Distinctly feminine.

"_Leon! Leon, help!"_

I grabbed onto the food I had collected so far and started running as fast as I could towards the scream.

I heard it again, louder and higher pitched.

"_Leon! Leon, hellllppp! Leoooonnnn, helllppp!"_

Tree branches caught and tore at my face as I ran past, hurdling over fallen trees and rotting stumps, the voice crying my name sounding more and more desperate. More and more . . . _annoying._

"_Help me, Leon! Leoooonnnnn! Helllllpppp!"_

I finally found myself back at the campfire, the three other guys exactly where I had left them.

"_Leon, help!_ Oh. A dead bird. Gross."

It was the preppy one. Ned, I think he called himself. I dropped the dead crow next to the fire.

"What is it?" I asked.

"We need you to settle an argument," Ned said. "Which one is it where zombies trap people in a shopping mall? Is it _Night of the Living Dead _or _Day of the Dead_?"

I just stared at the three of them.

"I keep telling them it's _Day of the Dead_," Ned continued. "But Ted here insists it's _Night of the Living Dead_."

"It's neither," I finally said. "_Night of the Living Dead _is a farmhouse. _Dawn of the Dead_ is the shopping mall."

"I told them," Fred, the dorky one, said. "I kept telling them it was neither, but they wouldn't listen to me."

I took a seat on one of the chunks of fallen tree we had designated seats and began skinning the dead crow.

"I never really got those zombie movies," Ned said.

"What's not to get?" interjected Ted, the one with the glassy eyes and the beanie cap who talked really slowly.

"In those movies, the first person to see a zombie never runs or fights back. They spend too much time figuring out that it's a zombie. I mean, it's always someone missing a limb or with their neck broken at a weird angle or with a giant hole in them. What else would they be?"

"That's because they assume it's just a person who's been badly injured at first," Fred said.

"Badly injured but still able to walk around with a huge hole in them?" Ned continued. "And they're always snarling and foaming at the mouth or something. Shouldn't the other person at least be concerned that they're rabid?" He took a bite out of one of the granola bars he and Fred had found earlier. "And that leads to the next thing. Why does it take so long for the survivors of these terrible apocalyptic events to realize that zombiesm is spread through biting? There's always that guy that's been bit on the hand or the toe or something, and all the survivors are locked in a room alone with him, and then he starts to snarl and foam at the mouth, and they're just like 'what's going on here?'"

"They need some time to learn why the dead are rising and how the virus is spreading and what the symptoms of the virus are," Fred said. "Namely, the desire to tear the flesh from the living and consume it."

"But it's the same every movie," Ned insisted. "How come no one in a zombie movie has ever seen a zombie movie? It would save so much time."

"Or played a zombie video game," Ted added.

"What zombie video game?" Fred asked. "When has there ever been a video game where you fight zombies? Name one."

"And what about killing a zombie?" Ned's tirade continued. "You shoot them in the head. If the people in zombie movies had ever seen zombie movies, they'd know that, instead of shooting one of the things in the leg once, and then standing there looking at the zombie on the ground until it bites them. And why do you have to shoot them in the head, anyway?"

"Because it destroys the brain," Fred said. "Everyone knows that."

"Or you can burn them," I said.

Now they all stared at me.

"You can shoot them in the head and destroy the brain," I said, "or you can immolate them. Otherwise, they'll just come back as more powerful zombies."

"I've never heard that before," Fred said. "Where are you getting that from?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"I thought that was just something everyone knew."

"And what about zombie dogs?" Ted asked.

"Is there such a things as zombie dogs?" Fred said.

"There's got to be," Ted said. "What else would happen if a zombie bit a dog? Think about it."

"It makes sense," Ned agreed. He rubbed his hands together by the fire to keep them warm. "I mean, why should dogs be immune to the zombie virus?"

"But wouldn't zombies just devour the dogs whole?" Fred asked.

"Let's just say, for argument's sake, that the dogs get the virus somehow," Ned continued. "Either by being bitten but not wholly consumed by a zombie, or through other means, such as scientific experimentation."

"All right," Fred conceded.

"Then what would happen if a person were bitten by a dog exposed to this zombie virus," Ted continued. "Let's call it . . . say . . . the _T_-virus."

"Why '_T_'?" Fred asked.

"Duh," Ted said. "_'T'_ for _'Ted_'."

"All right. So a person's bitten by a dog exposed to the 'T-Virus.' So what?"

"Well," Ted said. "Would they become a zombie, or, like, a zombie dog?"

"What?"

"Would a person, like, bit by a zombie dog turn into a zombie, or a zombie dog? And wouldn't that be kind of like a werewolf?"

"He wouldn't turn into a zombie dog," Ned said. "He'd turn into a regular zombie. Because the dog would just be a carrier for the same virus. I mean, think about it. If a person's bitten by a monkey carrying a disease, the person doesn't turn into a diseased monkey."

"I think they totally do, though," Ted said. "That only makes logical sense to me."

Ned and Fred both slapped their foreheads.

"How else would a person who's bitten by a wolf turn into a werewolf?" Ted continued.

"That doesn't matter," Fred said.

"Why not?" Ted said.

"Because werewolves aren't real."

"And zombies are?"

"You're thinking about this all the wrong way," I interrupted. "I mean, movies are one thing, but if an individual infected with a virus that caused them to crave human flesh were to attack you, I don't think you would necessarily catch the virus from them. I think if you got away from them, attended to yourself medically, or even just walked around in a safe area long enough, you'd be perfectly fine, as long as you didn't keep running into them and they didn't attack you - say – three to six times in a row. After getting continually attacked by the diseased individuals, without giving yourself time to recover or tending to your wounds, you'd probably just die."

The three of them just laughed.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Fred said.

"It makes sense to me," I said.

They just continued laughing.

"Change of subjects," I said. "Which is cooler: werewolves or vampires?"

"Werewolves," the three of them chorused together.

"I was going to say vampires."

Fred sighed and poked at the fire with a long stick.

"This is useless," he said. "We've already wasted two nights out here. By the time we make it to Chicago the convention will be ending, and we'll be late for our Monday classes."

"I've only got one class on Monday," Ned said. "I can skip it. How about you, Ted?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I was already planning on skipping."

"Well, I'm not," I said. "I have four classes, and I've never skipped before in my life."

"Then now's a good time to start," Ned said. "I don't want to be away from campus anymore than you do, but I'm not letting you give up. I didn't come all this way and nearly get mangled by a crazed farmer with a chainsaw for nothing."

Just then, we heard the sound of an oncoming engine. We could all see the headlights cutting through the darkness. There was no time to douse the fire and hide, though I could tell the others wanted to. I felt the reassuring bulk of my knife's hilt. If it was Jimmy John and his father coming for us, we'd just have to deal with it.

Luckily, the vehicle that came around the bend to stop by our campfire wasn't Jeb's busted old pick-up truck, but a VW bus.

"Hey," the driver of the bus said, sticking his head out the window. "You guys camping?"

"Kind of," I said.

"Would you mind giving us directions to Chicago from here? We asked at this old shack back in the woods, but I don't think the driver really knew, and now we're kind of lost."

"We can give you directions, no problem," I said. "Would you mind giving me and my friends a ride in your vehicle?"

Fred and the others smiled, but the driver frowned. I could hear his passengers murmuring inside.

"Sorry, friend," the driver said. "No can do. We're kind of full-up as it is."

"I can pay you," I insisted.

"Really? What have you got?"

I held out the money I had found in the crow's stomach. The driver just wrinkled his nose at them.

"Spanish pesetas? What the heck am I supposed to do with pesetas?"

"_Pesetas_?" Fred groaned loudly. "Are you serious?"

I ignored his outbursts.

"Listen," I said. "What would it take for you to . . ."

But the driver wasn't listening to me. He was staring over my shoulder. At Ted.

"Is that a yellow herb?"

"Yeah," Ted said, stepping closer.

"I've never seen yellow herbs before," the driver said. "I didn't think they existed."

"Yeah. They're new to me, too," Ted said.

"What are they like?"

"Well, if you have some green herbs, or some green herbs and some red herbs, it enhances the effects."

"Let him in," a female voice behind the driver insisted. The other passengers joined in a chorus of agreement.

"All right," the driver said. "We'll get you to the city limits, as long as you help us with directions."

"And bring the herbs," one of his female companions reminded him.

Ted readily agreed. We put out the fire, gathered what we could, and climbed into the bus.


	10. The Raccoon City Limits

_Disclaimer: I don't own legal rights to any of the copyrighted Resident Evil stuff in this story. This is just a fan-written prequel/parody._

_**A/N – It's been just a little over two years since I just left Fred Valentine kind of hanging there. Since then, there have been two live-action **_**Resident Evil**_** movies, as many computer animated ones, and a handful of new **_**Resident Evil**_** games. And they've announced a council port of **_**RE: Revelations.**

_**It took deciding to start replaying the first **_**Resident Evil **_**remake for the GameCube to decide to get back into this fanfic. I had to re-read everything I'd written, trying to remember the ridiculously specific elements I had taken out of context from the **_**Resident Evil **_**games for my jokes. With some new ideas from replaying the games, I hope some of you are jumping back into Fred's road trip. First, here's Fred, with a recap of his journey . . .**_

* * *

May, 1998 . . . I'll never forget it. I was just experiencing a typical day on the campus of Raccoon City University, where I was studying to be an accountant, trying to live up to the reputation of my older sister.

I had done unusually poorly on a math exam, largely thanks to my two roommates' crazy night lives. Professor Smith had sent me to a convention in Chicago, to fetch an item for him: the autograph of his idol, Oslo Aglet. My roommates, wealthy, stylish Ned and more laid-back Ted, accompanied me, Ned looking forward to catching up with a no-doubt gorgeous ex and Ted just looking for a party.

On the road from Raccoon City, we picked-up a hitchhiker, Leon Scott Kennedy, who was trying to get home from the police academy to visit his family. Ned instantly disliked Leon, probably because he was jealous of Leon's better hair.

Our car broke down in the Arklay Mountains, where we encountered a family who let us spend the night in their cabin, only to chase us away with chainsaws and pitch forks. Ned thought they might be cannibals. I wondered.

My busted-down car rolled off a cliff and, for all intents and purposes, our road trip was finished.

Two days had passed since I first saw that terrible grade on my exam, though it feels more like four years.

My name is Fred.

I was sitting in the center of a tight group of people squeezed into a small VW bus. We'd managed to hitch a ride to Chicago, though I was starting to try to figure out how we were going to get back after the driver kicked us to the curb. I was feeling dizzy from the billowing cloud of smoke in the air.

"Seriously, man," Ted was saying. "If you look, you'll see the number 42 everywhere."

"No, man," a girl squeezed between Ned and Ted said. "It's just your imagination."

Ted shook his head.

"The signs are everywhere if you just look. The major corporations are using the money we pay for first aid spray and ammo clips to perform secret experiments in laboratories under fancy mansions. Every cent you spend on synthetically created medicines is used to control and overthrow us."

"That's so true," the driver said. "That's why I only use natural remedies."

"That's ridiculous," Ned insisted. "People in corporations are just trying to make a living like the rest of us. They're just better at it. There's no conspiracy."

The bus bumped on the rocky road again, thrusting Ned and the girl next to him against each other. They smiled and stared into each other's eyes.

Ted looked at me.

"What do you think, Fred?"

I tried to shrug off the dizziness.

"I just can't stop thinking about how good those Arklay Mountain people's Spanish was," I said. "Seriously, for barely being able to speak English, their Spanish was really impressive."

Ted looked next to him, where Ned and his new found friend were feeling each other's biceps, and then across from him.

"Leon?"

Leon just frowned and glared at him.

"I think you should all be arrested," he said in that unusually gruff voice of his.

"Dude, chill," the driver said. "It's medicinal."

He stepped on the brakes.

"Okay, end of the line," he said. "City limits, like I promised."

"Where are you guys going, anyway?" Leon asked.

"Why're you asking?" one of the passengers snapped. "You a cop?"

For once, Leon was totally silent.

We got off the bus, Ned pausing to get the phone number of the girl he'd been sitting next to, which she gave him written out with a purple marker on one of her bras.

"Will you take this?" she asked, in a voice that made everyone but Ned feel a little awkward. "Yes or no?"

"_Hell yes_," Ned said.

"You got my number," the girl said, waving goodbye.

"I got more than that," Ned said, shoving the item in his pocket proudly as the bus drove off.

"Did they seem kind of cliché to you?" I asked.

Ned's only response was to gesture to our other roommate.

"Fred, have you met my friend Ted?"

"Now what?" Leon asked.

"I guess we catch a cab or something."

"OK," Ted said. "But let's stop at that gas station first. I seriously need a bag of potato chips. Don't potato chips sound amazing right now?"

"Aren't you worried the money you spend on a bag of potato chips might fund experiments creating scorpions the size of dining cars and snakes the size of entire trains?" Ned said mockingly.

"Nah, man," Ted responded. "It's too late. You think they don't have that stuff done already? They just have to advance the agenda to get everyone accepting of revealing it. In the meantime, we might as well eat potato chips while we can. Anyone else craving salt and vinegar? Yes or no?"

* * *

We crossed the street to the gas station. As Ted walked intently up and down the snack aisle, I grabbed a bottle of a refreshing, highly caffeinated soft drink from the refrigerator section. When I made it to the counter, I was barely surprised to see a heavily cloaked man with a scratchy violet muffler covering his mouth.

"Whatcha buying?" he asked.

"Just this twelve ounce bottle," I said.

"What's your name, stranger?"

"Fred. What's yours? Bo?"

The eyes beneath the hood narrowed.

"It's Phillip."

"Oh."

As he scanned the bottle, he continued to speak.

"You can earn yourself a free 2-liter of this," he said. "All you have to do is find the ten blue medallions I have hanging around this part of town. If you can successfully target and destroy them, you can come back and claim that free 2-liter I just told you about."

"That doesn't sound worth all the work," I said. "Why can't you just run a simpler promotion, like buy one, get one free?"

"Plenty of good things to buy, stranger," was Phillip's only response.

"My name is Fred."

"That will be twenty pesetas."

"For one bottle? I could buy a week's worth of groceries for half as much."

"You want to trade in some of the items in your inventory for these new purchases?"

"Just forget it," I said, and started to walk away when Leon put another bottle on the counter, along with a handful of Spanish coins he had somehow acquired in the mountains.

"Leave it up there," Leon said. "It's buy one, get one free."

"Thanks, Leon," I said.

Then we both heard the high-pitched, shrill scream.

"_Help me, Leon! Leoooonnnnn! Helllllpppp!"_

"What?" Leon growled loudly, so everyone in the store could hear him, without even turning from the counter.

"Ted's getting salt and vinegar," Ned whined from the snack aisle. "But I'm trying to talk him into getting honey barbeque instead."

"Why don't you just buy your own bag, rich boy?" Leon said.

"Fine," Ned said. "Side with your boyfriend like that, pretty boy."

Leon just shrugged the comment off as Phillip put his receipt on the counter.

"Do you want to grab that?" Leon asked me.

"No," I said. "I'd just end up taking the time to look through it without actually reading it, wasting time before I can get back to what I was actually doing."

Leon took the receipt himself.

"Fine. But you'll be sorry if it turns out to be a big part of the puzzle."

I turned around, looking all around me, looking back at Phillip and Leon, trying to figure out what he meant.

"What puzzle?"

Leon just shook his head, swishing his long blonde bangs, and left.

* * *

We stepped out into the parking lot as Ned and Ted paid for their potato chips.

"I haven't been here for a while," I said.

"Last time I was here, I was out jogging when I found a young girl pleading for help," Leon said. "She was being chased by a local street gang. I hid her in a dumpster and told her to stay there when the gang surrounded me. They were armed with knives and chains. I only had my two bare hands. I ended up bruised and bleeding, but I took down every one of those thugs who were threatening that girl, then escorted her back to her parents safely. Then finished my jog."

He was staring into space as he faced the other side of the street. I pointed to a small bar.

"Last time I was here, I saw a live jazz concert there."

Ned and Ted joined us.

"I picked up a map of this area," Ned said. "Thought it would be helpful."

He unfolded it. Ted frowned at it.

"A map used to be just a map, showing you the layout of the area. Now there's a little arrow showing us where we are at all times, areas flash when we're in them, and areas change color depending on whether we've seen everything significant there or not. This is what mainstream society is these days."

"The arrow on the map shows wherever we are at any given moment?" I said. "But it's just a regular map!"

"It's the miracle of modern technology," Ned said. "Quit questioning it."

He looked across the parking lot, then elbowed me sharply. His jaw was dropped again.

"Check that out!"

My jaw dropped, too, but for different reasons. A girl was bent over the hood of her car, cleaning the windshield. She was wearing a mini-skirt and blue tube top, a blue-gray sweater tied around her waist. She was very familiar.

I elbowed Ned back, harder.

"That's my sister, you pervert!"

"But, dude," Ted said, "you gotta admit, she's still a total fox."

"No, I don't!" I said, slapping Ted's arm as hard as I could.

"That is a really great-looking backside," Leon chimed in, staring intently at the skirt as well. I wound up to punch him, then stopped when I realized how scared of him I really was.

"Fred?" Jill said when she turned her head. Ted, Ned, and Leon all wiped the drool of their chins and tried to look cool. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be back at school, studying . . . whatever that thing is you're studying?"

"You mean accounting?"

"Yeah. That."

"I'm supposed to attend this lecture at a convention center for extra credit. What are you doing here?"

"Got some vacation time," Jill said. "Decided to come to the big city to do some shopping." She examined the parking lot. "Where's your car?"

"It's a long story," I said.

"You see," Ted began, "we were driving through the forest when the car stopped working, and if we had a wrench, a battery, and some extra fuel we could have just kept going, but then this local man drove by in a truck, and he took us back to his cabin, but after Ned and the man's daughter . . ."

"Shut up!" Ned said quickly. "Like your brother said, it's a long story."

"You need a lift, little bro?" Jill asked. "Yes or no?"

I opened my mouth to say no, but all at once the three other guys nodded enthusiastically and shouted, "Yes."

"Fine," Jill said. "I'm going in to pay for gas. You guys get in the car."

Ted began tugging at the corner of his bag of potato chips.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jill snapped.

"I'm just really hungry so, like, we got these chips . . ."

"Don't even think about it. You're getting in my car, and if I find so much as one crumb or a greasy fingerprint, I swear to God . . . !"

* * *

_**A/N - To be continued . . .**_


End file.
